Hotline to Murder

remembered that Nathan had been at the Friday meeting. He guessed that the man was a few years older than he was, with sandy hair. Nathan was taller, but Tony was stockier. Nathan was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, in spite of the summer warmth.
    “How long have you been on the Hotline?” Tony asked. It was a standard question.
    “Six months.”
    “This is my first shift without a mentor. I guess I’m about to lose my vir….”
    Tony stopped in mid-word and Nathan laughed, a strange laugh that sounded like the cackle of a hen after laying an egg. “It’s okay; you can say it.”
    The girl came out of the listening room, and when Tony gave his name, she introduced herself as Cecile. They shook hands. Most girls shook hands these days. Upon being assured that Nathan was walking out with Cecile, Tony went into the listening room and appropriated the table he liked best—the one facing the window.
    He came back out to check the calendar. They were supposed to be working in pairs. But if nobody else had signed up, he would work alone. He wasn’t afraid. However, the calendar showed that S. Lawton was scheduled to work this shift. The name didn’t register with Tony.
    He had just settled down in his chair when he heard the outside door open behind him. When he swiveled the chair around, he saw Shahla entering the office. She waved at him. His heart gave an involuntary leap before he got it under control. What was she doing here? Perhaps she had just come in to sign up for future shifts. If so, she should have come in earlier. Now he would be obligated to walk her out, because of the new rules.
    Tony came out of the listening room, realizing that he looked forward to walking her out of the building. But instead of looking at the calendar, she was signing in on the daily time sheet.
    “Hi,” he said. “I-I didn’t know you were working tonight.”
    “Maybe if you’d looked at the calendar, you’d know,” Shahla said with a slight smile, as she also entered her hours in the logbook.
    “But the per…” Tony stopped, realizing that he was about to make a complete ass of himself. S. Lawton. Of course. Shahla Lawton. He had pictured Shahla as having an unpronounceable last name. “One of my new year’s resolutions was to learn to read. I guess I’m going to have to get going on that.”
    “You are,” Shahla said, leading the way into the listening room and setting a book she had brought with her on one of the tables.
    Tony followed her and went back to his table. Shahla was wearing a skirt tonight. It wasn’t short—it came to her knees—but he was glad to see any kind of a skirt on a girl. It made her look feminine. Skirts seemed to be few and far between these days. Mona always wore slacks to work at the Bodyalternatives.net office, as did the other women. And most of the girls in his Hotline class had worn jeans or shorts.
    He sat down trying to think of something sensible to say. “Uh, I didn’t see you at the meeting.”
    “I came in late and sat in the back.” Shahla wasn’t looking at him. “I almost didn’t come at all.”
    “You were close to Joy, weren’t you? This must be very difficult for you.” He wouldn’t have said that before he took the Hotline class.
    “Joy was my best friend. We double-dated to the prom last year.”
    Shahla still wasn’t looking at him. She was suffering. Tony could picture it. He remembered the rule about showing empathy but not sympathy. He said, “You didn’t have to come back.”
    “I came back because I want to make sure that the guy who killed Joy gets caught.”
    “Detective Croyden seems to be competent. I’m sure he’ll find whoever it was.”
    “I’m not so sure. At least as long as we have a confidentiality policy about our callers.”
    “Well, he was given a copy of the Green Book.” The policy had been bent to that extent. That fact had come out at the meeting. “Do you think one of our callers is the…suspect?”
    The phone rang before Shahla could answer. She said quickly, “I’ll get it,” and picked up the receiver. “Central Hotline. This is Sally.”
    She listened for a few seconds and then put the call on the speaker. Tony heard a male voice say, “…found Joy’s murderer yet?”
    “Who’s this?” Shahla demanded rather than asked.
    “Let’s just say I’m a friend.” The caller talked softly, with pauses between sentences. “But you’re looking in the wrong places.”
    “Where should we